Beware the Quiet Ones
by Adam Shmadam
Summary: Ruth testifies before Harry's Inquiry panel.  Was a one-shot, now no longer!
1. Chapter 1

Ruth was not a violent person, as a rule. There was the time that she whacked a guy over the head with a log, but he had tried to kill her and Adam with a crossbow, so she thought that was a valid exception. Her emotions the last few weeks had been a turmoil, to say the least, and now with the distinct possibility of an assault charge over her head, she had no qualms whatsoever about pouring out a second exceptionally large glass of wine, despite Beth's worried look in her direction.

"So the Inquiry went that well, then?" her flatmate asked.

Ruth didn't dare answer.

_**Earlier that day….**_

It was the second day of Ruth's testimony before Harry's Inquiry panel. She was trying hard not to lose her temper or composure, but her patience with a room full of pompous bureaucrats was wearing very thin. She had hoped to at least see Harry, but he was not allowed in the room while she was testifying. Some IA officers had led him off the Grid whilst she was down in the Registry, and that had been that. She hadn't clapped eyes on him since. Contrary to what she had said earlier she did have feelings, and her analyst brain was working overtime trying to sort them out, but it was almost too much to deal with at once. Ruth was alternately guilty, angry, grateful, regretful, and scared and then back again. She also missed Harry horribly. The Grid certainly wasn't the same without his strength and dry humour, and although things between them had been awkward to say the least, that uneasiness was preferable to the emptiness she was carrying around with her.

"You can rephrase that question as many times as you like, but my answer is still the same, Mr. Chairman." She had spent the whole morning trying to explain a relationship that she herself had no explanation for. She did, however, know one thing for certain.

"You still maintain that you and Sir Harry have not had sexual relations?"

"As I have told you several times already, we have not."

The same questions continued until Ruth thought she was ready to scream. Mercifully, just when she thought she couldn't take it any more, the panel had decided to quit for the day. She found herself sharing the lift with Michael Ellis, a member of the panel from Six.

"Long day?" he asked her sympathetically.

"Yes," she agreed.

"I suppose it must be true what they say…about the quiet ones."

"Sorry?"

"The great Harry Pearce committing treason…" Here he leaned over and whispered in her ear,

"You must be one hell of a shag! Do you only go for knights, or…? I promise I'm at least as fit as that old…"

A fist to his face prevented him from finishing his thought.

The next morning…

Harry Pearce entered the meeting room, followed closely behind by his impossibly young solicitor. He had long given up hope of being able to see Ruth during the proceedings, but he was still disappointed to find the room empty of her presence. He missed her, more than he thought possible, and wondered, not for the first time, how he made it through the time she was in exile. The last few weeks had been bleak, and the only thing that had improved his mood even a little bit was early that morning when he had read over the transcript of her testimony of the last two days. She had been truthful, but her answers were not entirely free of emotion, and that little sliver of hope for her sake, was festering in his heart. He didn't fear prison or disgrace, but he was fearful that what he had done had destroyed her respect and (dared he hope) friendship for him.

Eventually, the panel filed into the room, and Harry couldn't help but notice that Ellis was sporting a very fresh and obviously painful broken nose. Other members of panel looked curious, too. There were mutterings of "accident" and "fell down the stairs" but Harry, knowing Ellis' reputation (which was scarcely hampered by the fact that he was married), could reasonably suppose what had really happened. Of all the hypocrites in front of him, Ellis was perhaps one of the worst. In that moment, Harry wished he could by that lady a drink. Or two. Just for giving him something pleasant to imagine during this morning's round of questions.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Firstly, thank you for the lovely, encouraging reviews. This was originally intended to be just a one-shot, but you guys convinced me otherwise! As a consequence, I'm not sure where this is going, but here goes! Part of this chapter was co-opted from another unfinished angsty fic fragment – I think it works here better instead…Reviews are greatly appreciated!

Her knuckles hurt. She had been too flustered and angry to notice it before, but now they were throbbing insistently. It didn't help matters that she had been writing in her journal for the better part of an hour. The journal was an exercise given to her by her therapist. It had taken a lot of work, but with a bit of help from an old contact at GCHQ, Ruth had found a therapist who was familiar with the Service but not a part of it. So, twice a week, as far as anyone else knew Ruth had a meeting with one of Towers' undersecretaries and no one, including Harry's frightened and ineffectual temporary replacement, had bothered to double-check. She had originally balked at the journal assignment, but there was something vaguely reassuring about putting her thoughts in a concrete form, although the spook in her was terrified at the prospect of it falling into the wrong hands. She was about to go to bed when she received an unexpected phone call.

"Home Secretary?"

"Ms. Evershed. Ruth. I need to meet with you tomorrow, first thing."

"Of course."

"Good. I'll see you at 7:00," and he rang off before she could reply.

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Towers had never met Ruth in person; their interactions had always been over the phone. Although he conceded that she was very intelligent and seemed pretty enough based on her photographs in her personnel file, he never did quite understand Harry's inclination, for lack of a better word. She was early for their meeting, and as they talked, William Towers' opinion shifted markedly.

"Is this about Harry?" Her concern was apparent, he found himself wishing he could give her better news.

"I do not like the way this inquiry is going, frankly. The longer it goes on the worse it is for everyone involved, but particularly for Harry."

"How is he?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. I'm afraid he's given up."

She said nothing, but fidgeted with a delicate chain around her neck.

"I can't do anything. I'm supposed to be impartial in this nonsense. The last thing I need, this country needs is for Harry Pearce to be decommissioned or in prison…"

"Prison?" Fear gripped her heart. She had been naïve enough to think that not being able to see Harry everyday would be the worst that could happen.

"Oh, yes. Rather drastic, I agree but entirely possible. Now if either of those things happens, you and I both know that we are sunk. I don't have a suitable replacement that's half the spook that Harry is. Mind you, he's a pig-headed, arrogant bastard most of the time, but at least he knows what he's doing. Our lives are going to get a lot more complicated if this doesn't turn out well."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Come up with something to get Harry, and us, out of this mess. Hobble the panel. Whatever you have to do, just do it…but keep me out of it."

"Of course."

They had been walking, and appearing just then at the other end of the corridor were Harry and a young man Ruth took as Harry's solicitor.

"Ah, Phelps, there you are! Can I have a word?" the Home Secretary buttonholed Harry's companion and before Ruth or Harry knew what had happened they were alone.

"Hi."

"Hi."

He just looked at her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her, as she tried to think of something to say and was failing miserably. She had come forward a few more steps and he had to remind himself to breathe.

"You're looking well."

"I wish I could say the same of you, Harry." She smiled, and he grinned back. In reality, worry gripped her. He seemed thinner and grayer and she wasn't used to this aura of defeat that seemed to cling to him. He noticed her notice the thin pink lines around his wrists.

"Handcuffs," he said it so matter-of-factly, and she's instantly angry.

"Harry…"

"It's OK." Before she can protest anymore, he took her hands in his and whispered,

"It's alright, Ruth."

It doesn't take long for him to notice her still swollen and red knuckles, and even shorter still for his brain to put the pieces together. He suddenly stiffened and she knows that he's figured out what happened between her and Ellis. His initial reaction is pure, unadulterated fury. He's sure in that moment that if Michael Ellis appeared in front of him, he'd gladly rip his throat out. But just as suddenly, he's remorseful for putting her in this predicament in the first place, and then he can't help but be proud and slightly amused. _That's my girl._

"Painful?"

"A bit."

"If it makes you feel any better, he looks worse."

She laughed, and he felt twenty years younger.

They were silent for awhile, basking in the others' presence. Both knew that their time must be up soon, and there was little likelihood of another "chance" meeting.

"What will you do?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, I could finally form that rock band I always wanted to," she laughed again, and a glint has come back into his eyes as well.

"Harry, promise me something."

"I'm not sure I'm in the position to…"

"Promise me that you will fight this."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Towers looked at his watch. He was taking a risk arranging this meeting, and he didn't want to press his luck by having someone on the panel find out that Harry had been in contact with someone from his section, especially Ruth. Another minute or two more was the most that they could risk.

"What is the purpose of this, Home Secretary?" Phelps was a brilliant legal mind, but, in Towers opinion, lacked subtlety.

"Seeing each other will motivate those two to get us out of this mess, Phelps. Martyrdom is no help to anybody. Alright, I think time's just about up."

Ruth was so silent on the way out that the Home Secretary was less sure of his scheme than previously. He had pinned his hopes on Harry and Ruth's feelings for each other and their mutual stubbornness and initiative to get this inquiry business over with so he could have a relatively quiet last few years before retirement. Before getting into the cab, Ruth put her hand on Towers' arm.

"Thank you."

_If I had to look into those eyes nearly every day for years, I'd probably commit treason for her too, _he thought suddenly.

_**Thanks for reading! Please review! **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thanks again for all the reviews!**_

All seven members of the Inquiry panel were perplexed that morning. Sir Harry Pearce was downright cheerful. His answers were still unhelpful, obstructionist, and laced with sarcasm, but he was uncharacteristically pleasant, and almost apologetic about it. He must know something they didn't, and it made the panel very nervous indeed. In fact, after a brief morning session, the DG decided to suspend testimony for the day in the hopes that the panel could regroup and figure out what the hell was up Harry's sleeve.

Harry, for his part, had seen the effect his demeanor had on the panel, and decided to continue with it for his own amusement (of which he had precious little lately). The truth of the matter was that the image of Ruth's smile earlier that morning refused to leave his mind and that alone had put him in a better mood. He had no idea how to extricate himself from his current situation, and up until her words of encouragement, he hadn't really wanted to find a way out. A future without her respect seemed to him to be the bleakest sort, and a possible prison sentence seemed a mere annoyance by comparison. But she hadn't balked when he took her hands, and she even laughed at his sad attempt at humour. Against all that he hoped was possible, she seemed to have forgiven him, at least to the point where she was worried about his welfare. So, he gladly stuck out his hands in preparation for the handcuffs that were his companions on the way back to the detention centre and started to wrack his brain on what to do.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You seem a little distracted today," the therapist commented.

"I'm sorry, it's just work."

"And when is it not? Ruth, don't you think you've put yourself last long enough? I'm not saying your job isn't important or demanding, but one of the reasons you're here is that you've lost yourself somewhere between one national crisis and another. You need to take care of yourself, and be honest with yourself, even if it's for ten minutes a day."

"I know. It's just that…"

"How's the journal coming along?"

"OK. It's very frightening, actually."

"Good."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Ruth walked back to Thames House. She always needed a bit of time to clear her head before getting back to the Grid after a session. Her emotions were raw, and she was forced to reflect on things she hadn't thought about in years. Not to mention she now had the added complication of what was essentially a black op in trying to get Harry exonerated. Given enough time, she could probably find enough dirt on every member of the panel. But would that help? The mere fact that Harry knew where the skeletons were buried was probably more of an incentive on their part to never have him see the light of day than to let him go. The other big question was time, of which there was precious little. She debated with herself whether or not to ask for help from the rest of the team. More manpower would be a definite plus, but they would be risking their jobs as well. The memory of Harry, stroking the back of her hands sprung to her mind, and she made her decision.

"So, what do we need to do?" asked Beth.

They were having a liquid lunch at the George and Ruth had been a bit surprised by the ease in which it took her to convince Beth, Dimitri, and Tariq to help her. She had underestimated their loyalty to Harry and their bitterness over Lucas' betrayal. She thought that maybe it was because they were so young, they hadn't yet found out for themselves how many shades of grey there really were.

"We need to find everything we can on everyone on that panel. I think we also need to find out about John Bateman."

"Bateman?" Dimitri asked.

"It's a long shot, but if we can figure out who allowed John Bateman to impersonate Lucas North in the beginning it may give us some leverage. Tariq, we need to get surveillance on that committee room."

"It'll be difficult, but the next time one of us is called…"

"No, it needs to be sooner than that. They've already talked to you at least once," here she thought of Michael Ellis, "…and I think they are through with me, too."

"OK. I'll get on it, but it may involve some B&E."

Armed with tasks to do on top of her usual workload, Ruth felt vaguely confident. This was the type of stuff she was meant to do, and she was good at it. She just hoped it was good enough, and soon enough.

It was early evening when it came to her. It was blindingly brilliant in its simplicity, but it hinged on a giant bluff. She needed to talk to Harry, and she needed to do it now.

"Mr. Phelps?"

"Yes."

"This is Ruth Evershed. I need to talk to Harry right away, within the hour if possible."

"That's not possible. He's not to have any contact with anyone from the Service."

"Well, could you talk to him? There's some information that's vital…"

"I'm sorry, but even I need to make an appointment 24 hours in advance. It simply cannot be done."

"24 hours? What kind of house arrest…?"

"You mean you didn't know?"

"Apparently not." Her temper was in serious danger of being unleashed on poor Mr. Phelps.

"Sir Harry is a guest of Her Majesty's in Bronzeville. Solitary confinement, actually. He's only allowed to see me or immediate family members, with an appointment of course. His daughter is due to see him in the morning…"

"Thank you, Mr. Phelps."

She promptly called Tariq to have him double check on the security in the visiting area at Bronzeville, then with a few clicks found out where Catherine Townsend was.

_**Please leave a review!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thank you all for the reviews! This chapter is more spycraft, less fluff, but I think there is a glimmer of story in here somewhere! Please review – they really help motivate me to get another chapter out…**_

If she had time to think things through, Ruth may have done things a bit differently. But time was one thing she didn't have much of, and this was no time for social niceties. She figured she could get most of what she needed by hacking into the system later, but there were some details that only Harry would be able to provide, and the only way to get to Harry was through Catherine.

She took a circuitous route, making sure she wasn't followed. In the past few weeks, she was followed sporadically. They weren't too dogged about it though; it never took too much to shake the tail. She wondered what the point of it was; what did they think she was going to do? _Probably exactly what I'm doing now._ As she pulled in front of her block, it suddenly struck her as strange that if she had answered differently, she would be meeting with her stepdaughter. Would they have been friends? She wasn't even sure how things stood between father and daughter. Ruth decided to take the fact that that she was going to visit Harry as a good sign. She waited for a few minutes, checking to see if Catherine was under surveillance. She took a deep breath, and then rang the bell.

"Yes?" Ruth recognized the young woman from the long-ago November Committee episode.

"I work with your father, and I need your help." There was no time to beat around the bush.

"And why should I help you?"

"Because if you don't, your father will most likely end up in prison."

"From what I hear, maybe he deserves to be there."

"Listen, could we at least not debate this on your landing?"

Catherine reluctantly stood aside and let Ruth through.

"I'm sorry to get you involved in this, but there really is no other option."

"You haven't told me who you are yet." _But I could probably put a name to you_, she thought.

"That's not important and better for you anyway. You just need to follow these instructions tomorrow morning," and Ruth handed her a short, typewritten list.

"How do I know that I, or my father for that matter, can trust you?"

Ruth's heart lightened a bit at the question. If Catherine didn't care what happened to Harry, then she would have no scruples about what she was asking her to do.

"You don't. Not for sure. But it already looks pretty bad for him; what would I gain to go through all of this trouble…just to make it worse?"

The young woman considered the woman before her, and took the paper from her hand.

"Do spooks drink tea?"

"This one does."

They drank in silence for awhile.

"What did he do?" Catherine asked quietly.

"He saved a life." Ruth voiced hitched ever so slightly before continuing. "It was a risky thing to do. If your father's plan had worked, the state secret he traded would've been back in our hands instead of with the Chinese and no one would be any the wiser."

"And this secret…is it serious?"

"Serious enough…"

It was late by the time Ruth left Catherine. She had gone over the plan for the morning a few times, and was reasonably confident that it could be pulled off. Although Catherine didn't look much like her father physically, she was very much like Harry in her mannerisms, and for some reason, this comforted Ruth a bit. She had a long night ahead of her, and stopped for an extra large coffee before heading off to her next destination.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_What kind of person does this sort of thing for a living, all the time?_ she thought. She was careful to follow the instructions to the letter, making sure to burn the list given to her once it was memorized. She fought the urge to look behind her to see if she was being followed. Her visitor last evening didn't sound too convincing when she said she didn't think she would be. But at this point, nothing would surprise her. Whilst waiting in the very bland and not very welcoming visiting area, she couldn't help but think of her father and what he must be like on the job. He obviously inspired loyalty among those under him, her visitor (surely that was the Ruth she'd heard about?) proved that. She had a hard time reconciling her emotions about her father.

When he was finally led in, her heart softened. He was pale, and older than she remembered. He seemed both surprised and glad to see her.

"How are you?" She tried to keep her voice calm, trying not to cry seeing her father in this situation.

"Better for seeing you." He smiled, and continued, "I'm bored out of my mind, but other than that, I'm alright."

"I brought you some books…thought you could use something…"

"Thanks."

"The top one…Auntie thought you'd like it, but she'll need it back."

_Who was she talking about? _He had no living aunt, and he seriously doubted Jane's sister would give him anything more than a slap to the head at the best of times. Then, it dawned on him. It had to be. Ruth. _What is she playing at?_

"I'll read that one first. Tell her I said 'Thanks'. How are you?"

"Other than this, I'm well. I've been seeing someone, actually. I think you'd like him."

Harry considered his daughter. She looked more and more like her mother as time wore on. In his head, Catherine was still an emotional, headstrong girl of about eight. Now, here she was telling him all about her boyfriend, and trying to be brave and not cry in front of her incarcerated father. What was left of his heart was shattering, bit by bit. They talked for a bit more, and when it was time for her to go, she gave him a hug, before the guard could stop her.

"Take care of yourself, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you, Catherine. I know I'm crap at showing it, but I do."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was ungodly early when Dimitri, Beth and Tariq entered the Grid. All three were shattered from a lack of sleep, but no one was particularly surprised to see Ruth already there.

"Did you sleep at all?" Beth asked the analyst.

"No. Too much to do. How did you fare?"

"Dimitri's making progress on Bateman, but it's slow going." Tariq looked apologetic.

"We did manage to get a bug in the inquiry room, but I'm not sure how much use it'll be. There's a lot of interference in that building…"

"That's OK. Hopefully, the panel won't be meeting much longer anyway."

"You have a plan." It wasn't a question from Dimitri.

"Yes. It's a little risky, but as long as we get the codes from Harry, it should be fine."

"And how do you propose to get those, and what are they for?"

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Back in his cell, Harry grabbed the topmost book in the stack that Catherine had given him, a seemingly brand new Penguin classics copy of _Tess of the D'urbervilles_. His mind was swimming with all the possibilities of codes Ruth could attempt. If he had any inkling as to the kind of message, he could narrow things down a bit, but he couldn't. He thumbed through the book slowly, trying to notice any unusual markings. He was starting to lose hope until he reached chapter eight. He didn't see them at first, but on closer inspection there were tiny pinpricks on certain letters. Holding the page up to the light, there were a few of these tiny holes on each page, but only on a select number of chapters. This was going to take awhile, but Harry had nothing but time.

It took nearly an hour, but Harry got the message. If Catherine hadn't given it to him, he would have scarcely trusted what he saw. Why on earth would Ruth need his Albany verification codes? They would hardly be useful now, since Albany was halfway across the globe. His heart sank; whatever she was planning was dangerous for her and her career. It was all well and good for him; he was a few years removed from retiring anyway, but she had a bright future ahead of her. He had half a mind to give the book back without the information she needed for her own good, but then he thought of her eyes which he so often nearly lost himself in. She told him to fight, and that's just what he would have to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry was unusually restless that evening. With a bit of difficulty, he managed to put his reply message in chapter thirteen and now all he had to do was wait. He was uneasy about Ruth's plan, whatever it was. He had no doubt whatsoever in her abilities, but he knew from bitter personal experience that things didn't always go to plan. Like stopping Lucas. Or proposing marriage.

On the face of it, solitary confinement wasn't as bad as could be supposed. Had he been under house arrest, it was unlikely he'd do much more than what he was doing right now – reading, and thinking about his children and Ruth. He kept telling himself it was merely psychology that was making him go slowly crazy – he only wanted to roam freely precisely because he had been prevented from doing so. He couldn't blame them, either. He was the definition of "flight risk" and if he had had the inclination, he could have disappeared without a trace sometime in those two days after his confrontation with Lucas before IA picked him up.

After finishing his message, Harry tried reading for awhile, but gave up after having read the same paragraph five times without remembering a word of it. She filled his thoughts, and he was undecided if that was a good thing or not. Before their chance meeting with Ruth, he had resigned himself to the fact that although what he had done had saved her life, she would never forgive him for it. In her eyes, he was a traitor, not only to his country, but also to the sacrifices that people like Zoe, Danny, Adam, and Jo had made. The look on her face when she saw him in that corridor had given him a sliver of hope, and that tiny sliver wedged an opening through his soul that he had tried so hard to keep closed. He eventually slept, but fitfully, his dreams a confused jumble of his daughter, coded letters, and bloody knuckles.

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The sky is bright and Ruth is worried that Catherine will be late, or worse yet, reconsidered and didn't go through with it. As she walks to the bridge, she is both nervous and oddly exhilarated; it's easy to understand now why field agents do what they do. The adrenaline is like a drug, and even the simple act of taking a cab suddenly becomes thrilling. She's not being followed this morning; she thinks that this is probably because the inquiry is winding down. That fact alone makes her very uneasy, despite all the work she and everyone else has done in the last two days. She's done all she can without Harry's codes. Once they have those, it is all up to her and her poker face.

She sees Catherine approach with a book under her arm, five minutes before their appointed time. _Like father, like daughter_.

"Hi."

"Hi." The young woman hands over the book.

"So what next?"

"For you, nothing. Go back to your life."

"But…"

"No buts. You've been a great help. If all goes well, your father will be able to take you out to dinner in a matter of days."

"Ruth… I hope he thanks you properly for all this." And with a smile, the young woman walks away, leaving the spook completely taken aback.

The Grid was alive with activity when Ruth arrived.

"I have more information on Bateman and his recruitment." Dimitri hands over a much-worn file.

"Thank you." She looks in the file briefly and uncharacteristically swears, vehemently.

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything is perfect." The smallest hint of smile crosses her lips.

Much later, Tariq shyly approaches Ruth's desk.

"Ruth, I've got the codes put in. Are you seriously thinking of doing what I think you're doing?"

"That's the only way I can see to get Harry free and clear."

"But how..?" It's clear the techie is impressed, and probably not a little smitten with Ruth as a result.

"I had a lot of help from your predecessor, Malcolm. A few years ago I helped him figure out how to hack into the black archive, just in case we needed it for a rainy day."

"I need to meet this man."

She manages to get Beth to show her how to pick a car lock. Harry's temporary replacement scarcely leaves the crimson office, and both Beth and Ruth joke about how they could probably run a few more black ops in plain sight on the Grid, before he'd even notice something was up. Tariq has done his magic with the car park cameras, and all she has to do is now wait.

If Michael Ellis is surprised to find Ruth Evershed in the passenger seat of his car when he leaves work for the day, he doesn't show it, much. His nose is in that stage of bruising where it is more green and yellow than black and blue.

"So, missing Harry already? Decided to reconsider my offer?"

Only the thought of getting Harry out is keeping her from either leaving the car or throttling this guy senseless.

"I just thought I'd do you a favor."

"Well, no one would accuse you of having self-esteem issues." He leans towards her and she jabs him – hard – in the ribs with a memory stick.

"Take a look at that."

"What is it?"

"We came across some chatter, and did some digging. The inquiry is a cover-up, a total waste of time."

"How so?"

"The Albany file that Harry gave away was a fake."

"We know that already."

"The real Albany file, the one that works, is still safe and sound."

"Albany works?" His jaw drops and practically hits the steering wheel.

"If word got out that we still have Albany, the deterrent is still there, and Harry isn't guilty of anything other than perhaps poor judgment."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I thought you'd appreciate going back to doing your actual job."

"And what if I don't want to pass this information on?" He was going to enjoy watching her beg for Harry's future.

"I'm sure your wife and your very rich father-in-law would be interested in our last conversation."

"She'd never believe you."

"Maybe not, but she'd have to believe the security camera footage from the lift and the audio provided by the wire I was wearing at the time, wouldn't she?" The lift didn't have a camera and neither did Ruth have a wire, but he didn't know that.

"I've been forgiven before."

"Well, there's always the little niggling detail that _you_ let John Bateman take Lucas North's employment with Five, while you were on secondment. Very sloppy, not even double-checking basic background details. I wonder what kind of inquiry they would hold for you for that?"

He turned white, his knuckles tightly clutching the steering wheel.

"Give my best to your wife," and she abruptly left.

As she walked away from the Lexus, she chuckled to herself and offered up a little prayer to Ros.

Author's note: One more chapter to go, I think! Please review and let me know if I hit the right track…there have been so many great inquiry fics lately, I'm a little unsure.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late in the evening, and the Grid was all but deserted. As usual, Ruth was still working, but even she had to concede that it was time to go home. She was just tidying up her desk when a familiar voice called out of the shadows.

"Ruth."

Growing up, Ruth had never liked her name. It seemed to her more suited to an elderly woman who knitted while waiting for a bus than a bright, young girl who wanted so much out of her life. She gradually warmed to it, if for no other reason than her dear late father had chosen it. But there was always something in the way _he_ said it that thrilled her. He was behind her now, so near she could feel his breath.

"Harry…"

Without a word, his hands are firmly on her waist. Another breath, and he's softly kissing her neck. She can't help but lean back into him, and if she was weary before, she certainly isn't now. She needs to see his eyes, and turns around to face him. As she moves away, a small sigh escapes him, head bowed. It's as if all the misery and disappointment of the world is heaped upon that head, and Ruth can't bear it any longer. Her hands move up to either side of his face, and she quells the disquiet in his eyes by kissing him, slowly at first. He's pressing her into the desk. Without conscious thought, she finds herself sliding his tie from the confines of his collar. Somewhere in the distance, something is beeping but neither cares.

"Ruth…Ruth!"

She sits bolt upright in bed, tangled in her duvet, and Beth is looking at her quizzically from the doorway.

"You must have been out, your alarm's been going off for five minutes."

The inquiry will probably end one way or the other today. She knows that they have done all they can – fake memos about the working Albany have been planted in the archives, and a few have been judiciously leaked to a Russian operative who Beth suspects also works for the Chinese. If all goes well, it won't take long for the word to spread that Albany does in fact still exist. Just for good measure, one of the leaked documents states that Albany has been moved and its location is only known by two people, one is fictitious and the other the conveniently dead former Home Secretary. She wasn't going to all this trouble to have Harry or anyone else tortured or kidnapped later.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Harry surprisingly finds himself lounging in a deep leather armchair, enjoying a very expensive scotch with the Home Secretary. Just that morning he was in handcuffs, and he is still a little out of sorts with the recent turn of events. He finds himself uneasy with so many people about, no doubt a reaction to his incarceration. What he really wants to do is go find Ruth, although he hasn't the faintest idea what he would say to her.

It was clear that Harry hadn't taken in a word he said since they sat down, and Towers would wager he knew whom he was thinking of.

"Harry?"

"Sorry, Home Secretary, I was miles away."

"I don't doubt it. Toddle off home, Harry. And give Ms. Evershed my regards when you get a chance."

Once Harry is back to work, there is a sense of relief, and closure, too. One of the first things Harry orders is that Ruth coordinate the rearrangement of desks – he's tired of seeing Lucas' empty workstation. He is irrationally happy when that is done, and Ruth is still within his line of sight. Two more field agents join the section, and it is busy getting them up to speed. Things between them are very stiff and awkward, but neither knows how to break the stalemate. Ever so slowly, the formality starts to chip away, and once in awhile a joke or glance passes between them. He starts to notice that she's smiling a little bit more and he is relieved. When chatter about Albany starts up again, he eventually works out how Ruth arranged it all; and the amount of work that it took to do astounds him. A stray remark from Beth leads him to suspect that Malcolm had a hand in it too, but he's learning to be very careful when it comes to asking Ruth questions. They have settled into a truce, albeit an unsatisfying one.

It was an achingly long day, but another terror cell was shut down, and for once the Americans were actually being helpful about it. He wasn't ready to go home just yet; his house was big and empty and he knew sleep was a long time coming, so Harry went up to the roof to clear his head.

Most of the others had headed of to the George for a celebratory drink, but Ruth wasn't much in the mood to celebrate. Although things between her and Harry were getting better, she was tired of the huge elephant in the room every time they were together. Even at home, Beth would be as if on eggshells anytime Harry was mentioned in passing, and Ruth was getting tired of it. If therapy was teaching her anything, it was that avoiding problems was no way to go through life. _Once more unto the breach_, she thought as she opened the door to the rooftop, with not an idea in her head how to say to him what she wanted to.

He was leaning on the rail with his back to her, and if had heard her approach, he didn't acknowledge it. It was an unusually mild night, and she was surprised by the fact that no matter how many times she saw the city at night like this, she was always struck by its beauty.

"Hi."

"Hi. I thought you'd go with the others."

"No. I can't keep up with them."

"Isn't it astonishing how _young_ they are?"

"I suppose we were like that once…"

He chuckled.

"I'm sure entirely convinced of that."

They were silent for awhile, but the quiet was companionable. At last, he spoke very quietly,

"You made quite an impression on Catherine. I never had a chance to thank you properly for everything."

"It wasn't all my doing…"

"Nevertheless, thank you. I wasn't sure…" he trailed off, not sure how to finish his sentence.

"I was very angry, Harry. But then when I found out Albany didn't work…"

"I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you about that. I do understand, Ruth. I know a little bit about survivor guilt, even though I'm not allowed to show it."

They were silent again.

"I've been going to a therapist." Ruth's voice sounded sharper than she intended.

"I guessed as much."

She seemed disappointed that her great revelation wasn't.

"How?"

"Well, for starters, twice weekly seems a little excessive to be talking to an undersecretary. But you've seemed a lot…" Here he struggled with the right word, "…content recently. You've actually been smiling, and I distinctly remember you laughing at one of Tariq's awful jokes the other day...It's been nice."

"How do you know that I haven't been skipping out and meeting a lover?"

He considered her face, and his words very carefully.

"Because you're not cruel, Ruth. Breathtakingly, brutally honest, but not cruel for cruelty's sake. Even after having refused me, you'd still be writhing in guilt every time you looked in my direction if that had been the case."

"I suppose so. But still I'm a little hurt you didn't consider that as a possibility." There was a glimmer in her eyes; she was joking with him now.

"Well, maybe I just refused to consider the possibility, for obvious reasons. Although I have to say that regularly scheduled lovemaking seems very dreary. I put you down as more spontaneous than that."

She looked shocked, with good reason. He was suddenly afraid that he had gone too far with their newfound frankness. He shrugged, and continued,

"I had a lot of time on my hands in Bronzeville. You can't deny me my imagination at least."

Silence again.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Would you have dinner with me?"

"What did you have in mind?" She looked vaguely skeptical.

"I don't know. Whatever you're in the mood for. I'd rather not eat alone, and I'd like us to start again, as impossible as that sounds. Even if it's just as friends."


	7. Epilogue

The corner of the George is boisterous; it's Ruth's birthday and Beth is feeling very satisfied with herself for arranging this party without Ruth finding out about it. Almost everyone in Section D is there.

"Harry said he'd come by after his JIC meeting." Beth answers Ruth's unasked question.

These last few months there's been a definite change in the atmosphere on the Grid. Harry and Ruth still argue often, but the awkward edge is gone. Although neither has said anything and there have been no overt demonstrations, everyone knows that they are a couple. Some of the newer officers have always assumed that they were. Beth, who up until recently shared a flat with Ruth, could probably offer more details about the course of the relationship but has kept her supposed knowledge to herself. As far as she's concerned, they are happy, even though she's still puzzled how two people so much in love can progress about as fast as a glacier.

Ruth starts opening her presents: a beautiful scarf from Beth, an expensive bottle of wine from Dimitri. There's a smallish rectangular present.

"Let me guess, it's book." Beth playfully slaps Dimitri's arm.

It turns out to be the Penguin classic version of _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_. It's from Harry, and everyone but Tariq (who got Harry's Albany codes out a similar copy months before) are a bit confused at Ruth's reaction to it. She trembles a bit, and she's treating it with a reverence that is incongruent with an easily obtainable paperback.

"Go on, I'll fend them off for awhile," Tariq whispers to Ruth a few minutes later. He hands her a bar napkin and a pen.

She practically runs to another corner of the bar and holds the pages up to the light, looking for the tiny pin pricks. She's finished and is staring disbelieving at the letters on the napkin, when Harry walks in. Section D is collectively agape when Ruth, without hesitation, pulls Harry by his tie into a passionate embrace.

At closing time, the bartender is intrigued. He's seen all sorts of things written on napkins in his time, but this one is unique:

BUGGER THE

**NEIGHBORS**

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